Collectanea Chemica
by flying.bicycle
Summary: "All philosophers affirm, with one consent, that metals have a seed by which they are increased..." A collection of short stories, formerly titled "Home at Last." Title and quote are from the alchemical book by A. E. White.
1. Kocham Cię

Wow, this is badly written and FLUFFY AS HELL, you guys. Whatever, someone needs to be writing about these two!

I guess it goes without saying I'd love reviews, please. :) Takes place right after the end of the "Spring-heeled Jack" arc.

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><p>As they walked away from the power station through the sprawling alleys of the Court, Zimmy noticed Gamma was staring at her oddly. She couldn't bring herself to feel annoyed, and instead gave a shivery laugh, the night wind cold on her wet skin.<p>

_What'cha- what'cha smiling at? _she thought. The taller girl, observant as ever, held her closer to warm her.

_I'm smiling because you're smiling,_ she replied softly, exhaling a gentle huff of laughter. They both grinned foolishly at each other.

_That's the sappiest thing- _she began, but she shook her head and looked back at her. _I just can't stay angry tonight. _She softly felt her clean eyes, stopping to look up at the sky still choked with clouds. _I can see so clearly, Gamma. _Later, she could sulk about the unfairness of it all, that every other stupid bastard in the world got to see this way all the time, but for now, she was elated.

Gamma smiled tenderly at her, and put her arm back around her to continue walking.

_Zimmy..._ she began hesitantly, _could we maybe go inside? I'm a little cold..._ Zimmy's face fell a few degrees, and Gamma hastily rushed to retract her statement. Zimmy held up a hand to stop her.

_No! It's_ _okay. You don't need to be so damned nice all the time; God knows I don't deserve it!_ she laughed, bright red eyes flicking away. Gamma looked at her toes, which squelched a little in reply. She hoarsely whispered something in her native language, barely audible. Normally this would make Zimmy furious, but this time she just raised her eyebrows and pulled the other girl aside into a niche in the narrow alleyway.

_What'd'ya say?_ she asked, looking up into her dark eyes. Gamma realized she had spoken aloud and apologized.

_I said, "You do." Deserve to be treated nicely, that is._ She continued to stare at Zimmy until her intense gaze made the wild-haired girl fidget and look away. The cobblestones were dark and slick with the rainwater that still dripped loudly through the pipes. _Sorry to stare! I just like to see your pretty eyes. _These began to water as if they were embarrassed by this praise. _You're crying!_ Gamma yelped, dismay radiating off her usually calm aura in waves that Zimmy could almost taste.

_No... _she replied, smiling shakily._ I'm just feelin' weird. And tired of walking, and cold,_ she added, noticing how she was leaning against the brick and how numb and pale her shaking fingertips had gone. Maybe in shock, too. _I guess we _should_ go back in. Not the dorm, though. Too many people, too many cameras._ Gamma chuckled.

_We haven't been to the dorm in weeks! The hideout, then?_ Zimmy nodded, and her friend took her hand and led her. The smaller girl took a deep breath and released it slowly.

_The air smells so good after the rain,_ she mused, resting her head on Gamma's shoulder.

"Mmm." Gamma squeezed her hand. They walked in a warm silence through the shining wet labyrinth, expertly navigating the forgotten back ways of the Court. _I'm starved. Want me to fix some dinner?_

_Yeh. _Zimmy took in the scenery with wide, clean eyes. It was obvious she didn't feel like talking, and Gamma didn't press the matter, planning the meal in her head. The inventory of ingredients and their possible combinations murmured softly in the back of Zimmy's head. She hated being forced to listen to the idle thoughts of everyone, which formed the horrible static, but Gamma's never bothered her. That was the lovely thing about being around Gamma: she could ignore people's thoughts, make them a murmuring noise in the back of her head, something she didn't have to listen to at full volume. She happily sighed, and Gamma distractedly patted her shoulder, wondering if she should pick up some of the special groceries they had the privilege of ordering, free of Court tracking devices. She decided against it, and they continued on their way to an unused apartment building.

It was odd, how empty the majority of the Court was. Perhaps the building was once a dormitory or accommodations for visitors. Maybe the Court was once a city and these were apartments. Either way, they seemed to be the only ones who used the building. They weren't under surveillance there, by human or mechanical eyes, an important arrangement for her. She wouldn't at all be surprised if the Court knew the location, but they were never bothered when they were there. The presence of working heat and water was certainly somewhat suspicious. They arrived at the dingy yellow building, slipped into a lobby tiled in a pale shade made grungy with the traffic of their dirty shoes, and up the dark flights. There had been times when Gamma had needed to carry her up those stairs, she remembered pensively. The air was warm and still, and they began to stop shivering. They came to apartment 3B and stood for a moment, holding hands.

_Home,_ she thought, surprising both Gamma and herself. She had never really thought of any _place_ as home.

_Yes, it is, isn't it?_ Gamma agreed with surprise. She unlocked the door with a key from under the doormat, which swung open into a dark room. Zimmy kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the faded green sofa as her friend flicked on the dim lights. As she moved into the cramped kitchen, Zimmy got up to follow, and crouched on a chair to watch Gamma make pasta. _You should change clothes. It's not good to be out in the cold all wet like we were._

_When have I _ever_ gotten sick? _Gamma shrugged and made her way out of the room.

_Watch this doesn't boil over. _Zimmy lightly stepped over to the stove, standing on her toes to minimize contact between the cold tile and her bare feet, leaning over the steam and letting it billow warmly over her face. It felt good, and she had to admit that Gamma might have had the right idea. Right on cue, a bundle of clothes hit her knee.

_How- How'd'ya hear me?_

_I didn't. I know you too well._ Zimmy smiled to herself and hastily changed into her other uniform, the only spare clothes she had. Her clothes from Birmingham she had burned. Perhaps melodramatic, but it had felt so satisfying. She felt at her eyes. Good, still clear. Gamma padded back into the room in more casual clothes. _It's nice to be inside and warm._

_Yeh. _Zimmy sat at the table across from her resting her chin in her hands, closing her eyes, drowsy and calm in the heat. Maybe she couldn't sleep, but she was close enough. Gamma's fingers softly poked through the thick tangles of her hair.

_You should let me brush this sometime. It's really quite pretty, just messy._ Zimmy shrugged, eyes still closed. It wasn't the first time Gamma had offered. _At least let me get a towel; it's absolutely soaking. _Without waiting for a response, she got up to fetch one.

_You fuss too much. _

_Someone has to do it_, she distractedly replied, rummaging through the closets she had carefully organized. At a loss for a comeback, Zimmy rolled her eyes and lowered her chin to rest on the tabletop. Gamma stopped on the threshold to the kitchen. Zimmy turned her head without lifting it and saw her friend leaning her hip against the doorway, a pristine white towel in her arms, a dreamy smile quirking her dark lips.

_What'cha thinkin' about?_

"Hmm?" O_h, nothing._ Zimmy raised an eyebrow, but let the matter drop. _You just look so happy sitting there._

_I guess._ It was true: she was feeling more content than she had felt in a long time. It was, of course, the influence of the rain, her clean eyes, and a certain pride she felt over successfully dealing with the spider boy. Then there was the warm apartment, the dry clothes, and the pasta softly cooling in the sink as Gamma glided around the kitchen searching for something. Her hair seeped uncomfortably down the collar of her dry shirt. Gamma found whatever it was and hauled two chipped ceramic plates, forks, and a bowl of softly steaming noodles to the table, towel still stuck under an arm. She moved her chair from across the table to sit next to Zimmy, who sat up and turned away from the table to face her. Gamma shook out the towel and wrapped it over Zimmy's head, tying two of the corners under her chin.

_Now you have a babushka!_ She grinned radiantly, vigorously ruffling the towel with one hand. Zimmy firmly patted at her hair.

_Yer gonna make it worse than it was before!_

_If you let me brush it, you won't have to worry about it!_

_Ya know what? _You_ should have the babushka, 'cuz yer already a nagging old lady! _Suddenly they were both laughing, rocking back and forth in their battered wooden chairs. Perhaps it was stress from the events of the day, or relief to be safe and "home." Still, she was always able to laugh with Gamma. During good times, she had quite a sense of humor. She remembered the demon's surprised face and the Carver girl's reaction to her teasing with a snort, and Gamma's eyes flashed joyfully at her as they shared the memory.

They managed to compose themselves and sat with their knees touching. Gamma was giving that weird dreamy smile again, and this time her eyes weren't distant, but looking straight into Zimmy's. Back in the alleys she'd called them pretty, she remembered with uncharacteristic shyness. Gamma's mouth was no longer wide with laughter, and her eyes were worn, with dark circles under them, but they shone bright with residual mirth. Zimmy's hand moved on its own to neatly frame the side of her face, thumb brushing across the deep shadows under her eyes. Tired and relieved, she felt as if she wasn't all there. It was nothing like the terror of her... spells... and yet that was what this odd detached feeling reminded her of. She suddenly wondered if this was what it felt like to dream. The warmth of Gamma's skin seeping into her hand nearly brought her out of her reverie, and the Polish girl tilted her head and twitched her lips in a flash of a smile.

_Zimmy? What are you thinking about?_

Zimmy's mind was blank for a second. Something seemed to click in the back of her head, neatly falling into place in stark contrast to the grinding, tangled gears that usually occupied her skull. Her other hand disjointedly reached up so she held Gamma's moonlike face in both hands, and she leaned forward to place a brief kiss on her dark lips.

Gamma was silent, and Zimmy stared dumbly back at her, mind wiped blissfully clear of any emotion but anticipation of her response. At last Gamma's eyes softened and eyebrows raised as that familiar saintly smile spread across her face.

And all along. All along she had loved that smile, too, hadn't she?

That sweet face stared back at her, then its worn eyes closed and full lips moved to meet her own, arms encircling her to hold her close.

"Gamma," Zimmy whispered hoarsely.

"Zeta." Her real name sounded foreign to her ears.

_In... there, you said..._

_That I love you? _Zimmy nodded, and Gamma whispered it aloud in her ear. _"_Kocham Cię_."_

"I.. love you, too."

For a long moment they rested in each other's arms, wet hair seeping into their clothes, closely listening to their breath.

If only it could always be like this.

It could never, she realized, clean eyes watering.

She might as well enjoy it now. She had probably had a few more hours to be somewhat normal.

The rest of the night.

Heh.

_S_he was the one to finally pull away, turning to the food with gusto.

_I'm_ _starved._

Gamma laughed, snagging a corner of the towel to dry rainwater off her face.

_Me too._

And Zimmy, for one of the first times in her life, was warm, happy, well-fed, and content.


	2. Outfoxed

Hello, folks! I decided to make more Gunnerkrigg fanfic, because it's fun and people seemed to enjoy the first one! I'd love to ramble on about making a request system, but I'd rather keep this A/N merely annoyingly long, so I'll put it at the bottom of the page.

Reynardine and Jones are just way too fun to write, especially their dialogue. I've made them not quite friends but sort of allies, here. It stands to reason they would know each other, because a.) Coyote and Jones seem to go way back, and Coyote and Rey are close, and b.) she is the de facto medium of the Court, dealing with Gillitie and Coyote. Jones and Rey moving Annie's stuff and bonding over the summer was mentioned in "From the Forest She Came," and what started out a look into the mind of Rey grew into my interpretation of how that went down. Whenever I try writing something serious, it seems to take a turn for the comedic.

Reynardine is a strange combination of gallant and rascally, so I hope I captured that balance. Especially when it comes to his thoughts and speech, which can be either flowery or plain-spoken. And he is just too adorable when he gets all paternal. Also: no idea what Jones is, just that she isn't a robot, but it's established that Rey, Coyote, and Annie know.

The poem came from a search of "Surma" on a sacred texts database, although most of them aren't actually religious in nature (A lot of stories from here on in are probably gonna start with some nonsensical babbling from alchemical texts or folktales of Renard. Thanks, crazy old monks and the people who bother to transcribe their stuff!). I thought the poem was beautiful and highly appropriate, especially the final lines. Even if it's difficult to read, it's difficult in that Shakespeare sort of way, where even if you don't fully understand, it looks and sounds amazing. "Surma" is a kind of ancient cosmetic, and "stibnite," her maiden name, is from the Latin for antimony, which was also used as kohl. Damn, Tom, I'm impressed!

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><p><strong>Salaman and Absal by Jami<strong>

No whit behind Salámán, whom she now  
>Began enticing with her Sorcery.<br>Now from her Hair would twine a musky Chain,  
>To bind his Heart—now twist it into Curls<br>Nestling innumerable Temptations;  
>Doubled the Darkness of her Eyes with Surma<br>To make him lose his way, and over them  
>Adorn'd the Bows that were to shoot him then;<br>Now to the Rose-leaf of her Cheek would add  
>Fresh Rose, and then a Grain of Musk lay there,<br>The Bird of the Belovéd Heart to snare.

Now with a Laugh would break the Ruby Seal  
>That lockt up Pearl; or busied in the Room<br>Would smite her Hand perhaps—on that pretence  
>To lift and show the Silver in her Sleeve;<br>Or hastily rising clash her Golden Anclets  
>To draw the Crownéd Head under her Feet.<br>Thus by innumerable Bridal wiles  
>She went about soliciting his Eyes,<br>Which she would scarce let lose her for a Moment;  
>For well she knew that mainly by The Eye<br>Love makes his Sign, and by no other Road  
>Enters and takes possession of the Heart.<p>

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><p>Although the child's tidy room was abandoned but for the fox and the only noise was the muffled shouts of girls bidding each other farewell for the summer, it was by no means silent. Reynardine's thoughts pounded in his ears with all the volume of the Court's machinery and all the chaos of fairy conversation.<p>

_The girl, would she be alright? _

_Of course she would be, with so much of her mother in her. _

_Her mother-! My lovely Surma-! _

_And it's all true, of course..._

_How did I never see it? What an idiot I was._

_My cousin, Coyote, surely he knew. Did they all? _

_Of course, you fool. You blind fool! Called yourself a trickster when a mere girl could outfox you!_

_No mere girl, a woman._ Despite himself, he felt a swell of admiration for the enigmatic part-human. _A woman most clever and cunning, brave and beautiful! Unmatched by all in ruthlessness and wit! Born of fire- so hypnotizing, so lovely, so dangerous! My beloved, both kind and cruel!  
><em>_And to think; I actually believed such a woman could have loved me._

_She deserved far better than that damned Carver boy... Poor Surma, how could she not see how unsuitable he was? A woman of her caliber! She had many suitors who adored her, yet she wed him!_

By this time he had grown to full size, pacing the small room and whining.

_Look at you, skulking like a beaten dog!_

He choked back a whimper.

_A cowardly, common creature- once wild and strong, now chained by helpless devotion to his master!_

Shaking his fur out with a huff, he composed himself and laid on Antimony's bed, resting his chin on his paws.

_Perhaps I was too harsh with the child._ He cringed at the memory of her face. _She's probably with the Donlan girl. I will have to apologize when she returns._ Unwilling to listen to his thoughts spinning much longer, he tucked the snowy tail of the body Surma made beside him and slept, dreaming of hungry flames. Some time later, the opening of the door woke him, but the clicking of heels told him it was not the child. The fox-spirit sniffed, not bothering to open his eyes.

Wandering Eye.

"Ms. Jones, isn't it?"

"Renard," the woman curtly replied, voice steelier than usual. "Miss Carver has made new arrangements. She will be with Coyote and the Anwyn for the summer holiday. I will be checking on her from time to time. I am here to inform you and to move her possessions into next year's dormitory." Reynardine opened his eyes, blinking lazily at the woman, who was now neatly organizing the girl's things into cardboard boxes and passing them along to a crew of small robots that had materialized.

"She's with Coyote?" He let out a slow breath through his nose. _Well. They would certainly have much to discuss. Perhaps she hates me now?_

"Of her own will, of course. I made sure of that," she added solemnly, reminding the fox of who she really was. With an apathy that came of exhaustion, he shrugged and bounded off of the bed, twining through the unfaltering feet of Ms. Jones.

"Where is this new dormitory?"

"Follow me," she told him and the parade of robots waiting in patient formation in the hall. In silence, they traversed the labyrinthine corridors of the Court. Finally, Jones spoke.  
>"You were the last to speak with Miss Carver. Exactly what occurred?" Reynardine sighed, for once feeling his age.<p>

"We... exchanged harsh words," he explained, guilty under the cool gaze of his old acquaintance. "She told me her mother never loved me, and I told her why her mother died." Jones nodded slowly, eyes soft with sympathy.

"It stands to reason, from what I saw of her." Reynardine looked up at her, broad canine face full of concern.

"Was she distraught?" Jones tilted her head non-committally, pausing to point the robots down a side corridor.

"Understandably so, yet she has calmed down since fleeing the Court." She blinked, recalling something. "She threw flame over half the bridge. Nearly killed James. And in Gillitie, Coyote saw fit to explain her..." She adjusted her vest. "Lineage."

"It was high time, I suppose."

"Indeed. She took it surprisingly well."

"Perhaps this is what she needs." No reply from the solemn woman but the clacking of her shoes. Reynardine remembered something that had been bothering him.

"Did you know?"

"Know what? That she has elemental ancestry?"

"No, not that. Were you aware Surma was tricking me?" Jones mulled over her answer, replying slowly and cautiously.

"I was never close to Surma. She disliked me, and I had no particular opinion towards her. Did I suspect anything? I had my guesses. I did not have a high-ranking position with the Court at the time, and I highly doubt there are any records remaining of the affair. Even if I had known, I would not have told you, quite frankly. In hindsight, it was a poor decision on the behalf of the Court."

"I understand," murmured the fox, remembering the intelligent dark eyes of the anonymous man. He never forgot a pair of eyes.

They finally reached an echoing, vast cavern, illuminated only by steel catwalks that criss-crossed a seemingly bottomless lake.

"Well, this is certainly a... hospitable place for young girls to live," he sniffed, earning a sly smile from Jones.

"Not my jurisdiction, Renard."

After locating Antimony's room, Wandering Eye and the robots set about to unpacking, Reynardine vaguely instructing them while keeping a close eye on a small bag that contained Coyote's tooth and other valued possessions. Though one might think the general tidiness of Jones and a teenage girl would wildly vary, Antimony's Carver blood made for an almost suspiciously neat room, dutifully replicated in the new space. As Jones handled what he considered the womanly work, Reynardine looked out the porthole into the murky depths, wondering how deep the underground lake was.

"Where does Miss Carver keep this?" Jones held up a battered cosmetics bag that Reynardine recognized with a twinge.

"That, I wouldn't know," he replied, too humbled by the bittersweet memory to be indignant at the question. _It must be from her mother... She certainly knew how to catch the eyes of men_. His hackles bristled. _Antimony is nowhere near old enough to be doing the same!_ He realized Jones was staring amusedly at him, and hoped his face had not been revealing his thoughts too clearly. Clearing his throat, he turned to the window again, too proud to help with the unpacking. Once the work was finished, Jones brushed the dust off her skirt and dismissed the robots, remaining in the room to speak with Reynardine. A brief silence ensued, Reynardine turning slowly to face her.

"You will be visiting her?" he confirmed, a note of worry in his smooth voice.

"Yes. She will be safe with the Anwyn." She gingerly sat on the crisp sheets of Antimony's berth.

"It's not the Anwyn I'm concerned about," he murmured darkly. Jones wearily nodded.

"I know. I'll be keeping as close an eye on her as I can. The elves won't let harm come to her, she seems to be as liked by Coyote as much as anyone can ever be, and I trust the girl to be resourceful in a crisis, even in light of recent events." Reynardine shifted, unsure if the the blame for those events laid with him. "In any case, you needn't be terribly concerned." The fox nodded absentmindedly, and Jones stood to smooth the sheets where she had sat. The two shook, hand and paw, with surprising grace. "I will be keeping in close contact with you."

"I welcome the company." A vague nod was the closest Jones would get to conceding that she would as well. She left without bidding him goodbye, pausing in the doorway.

"I nearly forgot: Miss Carver asked me to send you her love."

Without waiting for a reply or reaction, she clicked away past the moon pool and over the catwalk, leaving Reynardine alone again with his circling thoughts.

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><p>D'aww.<br>Reviews? Thoughts?  
>Earlier on, I mentioned a request system. I would love to see requests in PM's or reviews! I don't usually reply to these, however, so please don't take it harshly if I don't personally thank you for any feedback. I really do appreciate it, and I really do listen, I just don't log in often enough. I'm such a jerrrrk... Likewise, if I don't use your suggestion, it doesn't mean I didn't like it. It's more likely that I'm not feeling like writing that, am being lazy, don't want to do a really excellent but difficult one, and so on. Also, I have no update schedule and will horribly abuse all two of my long-suffering readers with long, unexplained delays. Bottom line is that I'm a slitherer-outer.<br>On a cheerier note, I'm also dragging my heels on a Gunnerkrigg art project! So each project can delay the other, I guess? If you care to marvel at my crayon scribbles, I'm doing a tarot card set that should be relatively easy to find within the group "Bridging the Annan" on deviantart, home to some very talented fans of the comic.  
>Wow, why do my AN's take up, like, half the page? Does this say more about my writing or A/N's?  
>I'll probably be back an embarrassingly long time later... but until then, thanks so much for reading! You guys mean so much to me! May the force be with you and all that... Dang. I have no idea how to end this note.<p>

-APRUPT FINISH-


	3. Advice from an Angel

Chapter Three, in which Robot and Kat discuss love, fencing, and comic books. (Awkward angel advises antisocial android?) This was made for my bro Gherti! I hope he and everyone else everyone likes it. (There was definitely something wrong with that grammar...) Robot and Kat are so much fun, and I tried to get them down accurately. They are both pretty complex characters, and I especially attempted to find a balance between sanguine and melancholy for Kat. I also tried not to outright ship anyone, although you can interpret any of this as you will. I personally like just about all the pairings out there. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>It was easy to see the Angel was upset about something, even to someone as clumsy with human emotion as Robot. She didn't walk at her usual brisk pace, and there was a definite slump in her shoulders as she returned to the workroom to listlessly fiddle with her current project. If he had possessed any courage and a throat, he would have cleared it gently. Instead he watched from his seat at the microscope table, helpless and silent. Suddenly straightening as if she had heard his worried thoughts, she turned to smile wearily at him.<p>

"Hey, Robot, how's it going?" To the mechanical man, it was a mere formality, no matter how sincerely Miss Donlan had meant it: feelings were an entirely human matter. He shrugged the question off, changing the subject.

"Are _you_ alright?" She nodded, smiling sadly at her battered sneakers. With no small amount of concern, he realized her demeanor was similar to how it had been after watching the recordings of Jeanne._ Love makes you act in strange ways_, he recalled. Had there been some sort of romantic problem? Had she fallen in love? Had someone broken her pure heart? His fists clenched at the thought. If someone tried to hurt his Angel, he would not stand by and do nothing.

"Yeah. I'm okay." In a low murmur, she added, "Antimony's dad called her. It's been years and years, ever since she first came to the Court." This was a good deal less dramatic than Robot expected, and he awkwardly tried to piece the emotional backstory of her statement together.

Miss Donlan felt sympathy for Mum- _Antimony_, he sternly corrected himself, thankful he could not blush. Miss Donlan felt sympathy for Antimony, because Antimony was sad, because her father did not contact her, because of... unknown reasons. Despite being the best theory he could come up with, it was entirely too illogical. For one, he had never seen Antimony show herself to be distraught about her father, and there was still no explanation for why he had never contacted her. Was it because love makes you act in strange ways? He knew it was the job of a parent to love his or her offspring, and perhaps Dr. Carver's love made him hurt his daughter. It was easy to see Miss Donlan's sympathy and love for her friend was the reason she was acting so oddly. Antimony's concealment was a less straightforward case. He guessed she was doing it because she loved her friend and knew she would be upset if she knew how sad she was. Slightly dizzy but proud of himself for figuring it out, he nodded to the ever-patient Angel, who had waited for him to work through it on his own.

"I think I understand." Her face shone with kindness and pride, and he had to look away from the brightness of it.

"That's great, Robot." A silence, and he sneaked a glance at her thoughtful countenance. "I think she's going to be okay. I mean, she always is, you know? She's with my dad, now. He's a nice guy; he can help her work things out. Yeah, she'll be okay." She turned to look at him, catching him off guard as she offered him a seat. "How are things going with Shadow?"

"Well. He's settled into a class in Foley house. I think he will be happy there." He warmly recalled the joyful face of the young glass-eyed man. The Angel seemed to take comfort in this statement, and he was pleased he had somehow managed to improve her mood. She coughed.

"So, are you two, uh..." She seemed to expect him to finish her sentence, yet he had no idea what to say. After a moment's pause the Angel continued. "Are you two a couple, then?" It took him another moment to realize what she meant. Now he really was glad he couldn't blush, as he cast around for a diplomatic answer. He had never even thought about loving anyone. Not love in the way she meant it anyway, different from how he loved his mother or Jeanne.

"I... I have no intention of entering a romantic relationship with Shadow, if that's what you are asking."

"Oh man, sorry." Her cheeks and ears flushed bright red, and he felt horribly guilty for the awkwardness of the situation.

"It's fine, please don't be upset."

"I just figured, you know, you two are so close and all, and you've been acting differently the past few months... It gets worse the more I talk, huh?" She laughed, not unkindly, at Robot's hunched posture. He laughed with her, inwardly swirling with confusion and questions he doubted anyone could answer. True, he had once admitted to the empty workroom that he loved Shadow, but he hadn't meant it like that! Or had he? It was a ridiculous business, and he was foolish to let himself get tangled up in it. The Angel was waiting for him to speak again, clearly wanting to see what was on his mind. He looked humbly at the ground, flashing green eyes briefly meeting her dark ones before finding the floor again. Gathering his nerve, he asked her something that had been weighing on his mind.

"I understand this is a very personal question, but what exactly it like to be in love?" She chuckled, the sound music to him.

"Well, that's a tough one, and I don't know if I could answer that. I guess... Damn." She sighed, at a loss. "Robot, pal, I think this is something you and I are gonna have to figure out on our own."

"Oh. Okay." Perhaps some moroseness bled into his voice, and she laughed again.

"Look at us sadsacks! We gotta do something fun, the two of us. It's Friday, and Lindsay- she's in charge of our dorm- probably thinks I'm with Annie, so I might as well stay out. We're both Batmen without our Robins! Or the other way around, I dunno. Wait, you know Batman, right?" He nodded, thinking back to the musty stack of comic books she kept in a milk carton at the workshop. "Great, was worried I lost you there! Let's, uh... what do you feel like doing?" Human recreation not being a subject of major interest to him, he shrugged. "Ooh! I know: how about you teach me to fence?" Robot winced at both the thought of having to fight his idol and trusting the enthusiastic young woman with a sword.

"That... might be best left to Miss Parley." She gave an amiable shrug, and yawned.

"This may not be any fun, but maybe we could just talk or play cards or something?" As boring as this sounded to her, it sounded wonderful to that part of Robot that yearned to effortlessly socialize and communicate with the Angel as a human would.

"That would be great," he replied, trailing Miss Donlan at a respectful distance as she rummaged through drawers full of odds and ends. She triumphantly held aloft a deck of cards bound with a rubber band, stopping on the way back to snag a pack of instant noodles from her emergency stash.

"You don't mind if I make these?" He realized what she meant and hastily shook his head. "Good, 'cause I'm_ starving_- missed dinner- probably would've fixed 'em anyway." After filling the plastic bowl with water and setting it to heat in a once-broken microwave she had been given, she returned to her seat.

Running a hand through her short hair, the Angel expertly cut and shuffled the deck, smiling at him in a way that made him freeze.

"So, I don't suppose you know how to play Snap?"

* * *

><p>And that's all! Sorry it's so short; they always seem longer in googledocs.<br>Kat, playing Snap with a robot seems like a pretty terrible idea... I suppose that's a lesson you hafta learn the hard way. Oddly enough, one of the other stories I'm playing with, for the Haruhi Suzumiya series, also stars instant ramen. Does this say more about me or just the versatility of cheap, unhealthy-but-oh-so-delicious cup noodles?  
>As I do believe I already mentioned, I've been working on a multi-parter with Jeanne. (I haven't got past the first chapter yet, ha... So we shall see how many parts we wind up with.) Should I put it in with the other stuff in the <span>Collectanea<span>, or make it a new story?  
>Enough of my rambling! Tell me what you think in a review! Positive, negative, I don't care, as long as it's honest!<p> 


	4. Sleeping Beauty

I thought I'd post this soon while it was still canon, although I do have another chapter done that I will post soon. I was just too crazy over the recent pages to not write! I have a real soft spot for Kat. The lyrics are from "I Am Stretched on Your Grave" by Kate Rusby, an incredible singer who's inspired quite a bit of Gunnerkrigg. Annie is even supposed to have a similar voice, but less Yorkshire (as an American I haven't got too clear an idea of how that sounds, but it's good to know). I am far too fond of opening with lyrics and text... I like how it sets a tone, even if it's cliched/pretentious. Although I haven't really done any Annie/Kat stuff, I think the pairing's cute!

* * *

><p>I am stretched on your grave<br>And I'll lie here forever  
>If you hands were in mine<br>I'd be sure they would not sever  
>My apple tree, my brightness,<br>It's time we were together  
>For I smell by the Earth<br>And I'm worn by the weather.

When my family think  
>That I'm safely in my bed<br>Oh, from morn until night  
>I am stretched out at your head<br>Calling out unto the earth  
>With tears hot and wild<br>For the loss of a girl  
>That I loved as a child.<p>

* * *

><p>It's in a daze that her mother takes her to the infirmary and settles her into one of those office chairs that all these places seem to have. The stream of soothing comments sails neatly through her skull.<p>

Nothing sinks in but the revelation that Annie is ill, really ill, and there is no medicine or science in the world that can help her.

Around her, there is a flurry of activity. Her parents are making arrangements and doing everything her friend's parents should be doing- talking to doctors, discussing possible etheric causes with Jones, locating Robot and Shadow, informing administrators of her illness. Kat will be excused from classes for tomorrow as well. The justification is for a "family emergency," and the connotations of this do not pass her by. Reynardine is already there, having been with Annie the whole time, neatly curled at her feet. By all appearances, he is asleep, but sometimes his bright eyes twinkle back when she looks at him. The first thing she does when her parents leave is get up to turn off that stupid beeper, which only serves to taunt her about how far Annie's malady is from a simple case. None of Kat's beloved machines will do her any good, only make useless noise. All she can do now is put her faith in what she does not understand.

Shadow and Robot arrive holding hands, and after sitting up with her for a reasonable time, the glass-eyed man falls asleep and Robot's eyes darken. She cannot sleep, and sits numbly for what must be only a few hours but feels like days- it's hard to tell time in this room. The young engineer is hypnotized by Antimony's pale face, wreathed in her thick hair which somehow looks faded. This is stupid because hair doesn't just _change color_, but then she remembers all the impossible things she's seen and her throat tightens. It's true. Her hair looks... Lifeless. She doesn't want to finish the thought, but her mind does anyway.

Lifeless like Annie.

Only now, after sitting there blankly for so long that her back is stiff and everyone has fallen asleep long ago, does she begin to cry. She wants with all her heart to touch Annie, to give her hand a comforting squeeze or stroke her hair and whisper into her ear that everything's going to be okay. The girl is in a bad way, though, and she doesn't want to interfere, so she stretches her hand out within a few inches of her friend's in case she wakes up and needs some comfort. She puts her head on her other arm and sobs into the sheets, knowing how pathetic she looks and not caring. Kat wonders if this is what happened with Mrs. Carver, and this sends her into a fresh attack of tears because it makes it sound like Annie's gonna die. She fiercely wipes at her eyes with the corner of her shirt, telling herself that Annie is going to be just fine.

Composing herself, she sits up straight, eyes puffy and itchy but dry. She can't help but stare at the part-fire elemental, who looks like some kind of enchanted maiden waiting for her prince. Antimony seems younger and more vulnerable without her makeup, she notices, despite never having much of an eye for these things. It's odd and reminds Kat of that night at the Annan Waters where she was able to swoop in and save the day. "_I'll save you, little girl_," she had declared, and it had felt infinitely better than any comic book fantasy. Like she had confessed to Annie, it had been the first time she had almost lost someone she cared about. It hadn't been the last time, a fact that is oddly comforting because everything has always turned out okay. Things will turn out okay this time, too. She makes a point to remember this, despite its simplicity and lack of logic, and it becomes her mantra through the night. Suddenly filled with a kind of solemn peace, she turns to Annie.

"Don't worry," she tells the girl in a low voice. "Everything's going to be fine." Antimony makes no response, of course, not even to shift in her sleep, but Kat likes to believe she heard from whatever far-off dimension her mind is floating in. She tries to imagine the ether based on what she has heard from Antimony, but is only able to come up with some vague idea of outer space mapped onto Earth, which only raises more questions from a physics standpoint.

She dismisses this train of thought and returns to her silent study of Annie's features. It's easy to see what men saw in Surma. Despite being undoubtedly the worst condition Kat has seen her in, Annie manages to have a beauty that the so-called angel has never had. Her skin, though light, isn't pasty, her nose is delicate and upturned instead of wide and undignified, and she is striking and willowy rather than plain and boyish. Even her mannerisms are that of a storybook princess, not an awkward teenager. Kat bites her chapped lips, a bad habit of hers, and notices how Annie's look much less ragged and rough. She wonders if this is an odd thing for a friend to notice and decides yes, yes it is. Standing and stretching, her back loudly cracks.

"Rey," she mutters, wondering if he is asleep. He does not stir, and she tries again louder. No response, and she is about to try a third time when an ear pricks up and he raises a rumpled head. He harrumphs at being woken, but seems to be restraining his sharp tongue under the circumstances.

"What is it?" he asks in a voice more growly than usual.

"I'm going to go out for a minute. Can you-"

"Keep an eye on her?" It sounds silly out loud, but he nods and she smiles gratefully.

"Thanks," Kat whispers, and slips into the hallway. It is abandoned but for a few nurses scurrying around and her parents, asleep on each other's shoulders in a way that even she thinks is rather sweet. It's brightly lit here, too, and the windows look out onto the blackness of the Court so that all she can see is the reflection of florescent lights and linoleum. It's evidently far later than she thought it was, a theory confirmed by the clock on the wall that is the same kind as the ones hanging in every classroom. She wanders aimlessly for a while, mind clear of all thought. She ducks into a bathroom to mess with her hair and comes to the conclusion that it isn't going to look better no matter how much she finger-combs it, eventually returning to Annie's room. Reynardine is still wide awake, and she instinctively pats him on the head, earning herself a cold glare as she returns to her seat.

"Thank you, Rey," she says softly, drawing her knees up and folding her arms around her shins. He nods, eyes glued to Antimony, and it is clear that he is thinking of another woman and another hospital. He unexpectedly turns to stare at Kat, and she pretends not to notice his intense gaze until it she can no longer ignore it. "What?" she asks, somewhat irritably.

"Do you love her?" the fox-spirit asks in his solemn, rich voice, and her face twitches in surprise and confusion.

"Of course I do. That's why we're all here, right? You and me and Shadow and Robot-"

"That's not what I was trying to say," he interjects, and she realizes what he _was_ trying to say. The girl narrows her eyes and rests her chin on her knees.

"Oh," she manages to choke out, face burning pink in the harsh lighting. She remembers another late night, at a party, and some choice comments the fox had made watching Parley fence. Why do so many people assume this about her? Reynardine's eyes flick away and back to her, but if he's expecting an answer, he's not getting one. After a hostile silence, he tries again.

"What I meant to-"

"I know what you meant," she mumbles, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he offers, and she recognizes it as the closest he will get to apologizing. She nods, and it is the closest she will get to forgiving him. "I just thought- some advice- assuming you_ do_ love her-" She shoots him her dirtiest look and he raises a paw in a very human gesture of defensiveness. "Tell her."

"Firstly, you're mistaken, and secondly, she's in a coma," scoffs Kat, and Reynardine looks at her strangely.

"All the more reason to," he breathes, voice barely audible, and her heart aches for the poor creature.

"I'm going to bed," she grumbles, and curls up in her chair and tries to sleep under the bright light. Her mind keeps drifting back to the subject of the ether, what it must be like for Annie. This is presuming that she is, in fact, in the ether. Kat has no idea what is going on in terms of magic except that Rey and her mother have already tried everything.

This dimension is what she dreams of, unconscious mind not bothering to worry about logic. Bright swirls of color, like ink in water, are visible from the corner of her eyes. She has no mass or weight and moves like she is underwater. The world looks dull and worn, but her beloved night sky is brighter than ever, and as she instinctively reaches up to touch the moon, she topples out of her chair and wakes up as she hits the floor.

Dusting herself off, she gingerly prods her shoulder, where she can feel a bruise forming. Kat goes out to check the clock again and sees it is almost morning, so she sits and waits for something to happen, because that's all she can do. She finds herself scowling, annoyed with herself for being such a useless lump.

"Huh." Her head whips around at the noise. It's those two strange girls, looking dirty and worn as usual. She hasn't even thought about the two of them for months, and she wonders why they have shown up.

"Z-Zimmy! Gamma... I didn't hear you come in..."

* * *

><p>And you know the rest, of course. I think I will write Annie's half as soon as we find out what happened.<p> 


	5. Between Two Lungs

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

Here's a story about Jeanne, attempting to create some missing backstory. This goes against some of Tom's formspring stuff, but fits in with the comic's canon. Hopefully the exposition doesn't seem forced... The story remains in an indeterminate time period. If we have any Leviathan fans in the audience who can spot my reference- let's just call it a reference, not a rip-off- the quote seemed quite suitable. All of the chapters of this story will have song snippets to go with them, some traditional, some modern. Also, I'm so sorry about the slow updates! I've been fooling with a few things for this at once, so I suppose I lost track of things. Thoughts are in italics, as usual. Well, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Between Two Lungs by Florence + the Machine<strong>

Between two lungs it was released,  
>The breath that carried me,<br>The sigh that blew me forward.

'Cause it was trapped:  
>Trapped between two lungs.<br>It was trapped between two lungs,  
>It was trapped between two lungs.<p>

And my running feet could fly,  
>Each breath screaming:<br>We are all too young to die...

Gone are all the days of begging,  
>The days of theft,<br>No more gasping for a breath!  
>The air has filled me head to toe,<br>And I can see the ground far below...

* * *

><p>Ill-tempered and breathing hard from his burden, the dark-haired young man wove his way through the halls of the Court, struggling in vain to remember the directions Sir Young had given him. <em>The armory should be just down the hallway to the right...<em> Quickening his stride, he rounded the corner and came face to face with a blank alcove for the second time in as many minutes.

Choler high, he dropped his armload with a clang and loudly cursed the building in a breathless tirade. As he began kicking at the featureless arch- "Why build something so useless, the sons of-!" he noticed a rather pretty young woman staring perplexedly at him. Locking eyes with her, he abruptly halted his attack on the wall, cheeks burning. Ineffectually smoothing his hair with one hand, he awkwardly bowed.

"George Powell, apprentice blacksmith." The woman smartly saluted with her fencing foil, and for the first time he noticed her uniform.

"Jeanne Balestra, at your service," she replied with a light accent. Evidently Miss Balestra was polite enough to pretend she saw nothing odd about a grown man cursing a blank wall, and he copied her attitude.

"A pleasure to meet you, miss. Could you please direct me towards the armory?" She nodded, smiling sympathetically, and waited for him to collect his sheet-draped load.

"I was going there anyway to return this," she explained, gesturing with her foil. "What're you carrying, there?"

"Sir Young's armour," he explained, hoisting it to a carrying position with a grunt.

"That must be solid iron!" Jeanne marvelled, slowing her stride to match the tall youth as they wove through the labyrinthine passages.

"It's not heavy as you'd think; it's built to be easy to wear." George leaned conspiratorially in, at least, as best as he could whilst carrying a full suit of armour. "You're not one of those that hates the... etheric arts, are you?" Grinning at the turn of phrase, she shook her head. "There's also some manner of enchantment on it."

"Ha! Proud Sir Young? I should have guessed." He winked.

"I never told you anything, of course."

"Of course." With a smirk, Jeanne let down her hair. "So, you're new here?" He nodded.

"New enough. I was raised in Gillitie, but I've always wanted to see Gunnerkrigg Court. I thought there might be blacksmith work here, and I was right. It's what my uncle does, so I know my way around a forge- anyway, it's a respectable trade. I've only actually been in the Court a week." Jeanne listened intently as they walked.

"A week, but you can't find the armory?" she teased as she led the pair around a corner.

"Well, you know, I've only ever gone there from the bailey, not from inside this damned maze," he retorted with mock indignation. "So, what's your story? How did you come to the court?" She shrugged, smiling distantly.

"I was born in France, but I came to study here when I was, hmm, eleven or so. I didn't speak a word of English and hated my parents for sending me. The other girls at the Court were never very kind, so I ended up befriending a boy about my age, Steadman. He's an accomplished bowman, now, tied up in Court business all the time." She shrugged again. "Here we are." Jeanne gestured with her foil at the door to the armory, opening it for him.

"Thanks."

"It's no trouble." Finally, George was able to deposit the armor on a sturdy counter. His new friend returned her foil and mask to a slim locker neatly labelled with her name and rank. As he rooted about for the tools he needed, she slipped into the broom closet and changed into a simple brown shift. The young woman peered over his shoulder. "So, what are you doing with that?"

"Ah, just maintenance. Hammering out the dents, checking the joins, polishing, that sort of thing."

"Hm." Hopping onto the counter, she silently watched him working and talking. He was common-spoken, a refreshing change from the endless politics of Court. A kind and polite man, she approvingly noted, and handsome in a plain way. She blushed at this- She was a soldier, not a village girl twirling her skirts! Before she even had time to chide herself and return her attention to what the apprentice was saying, he turned to her, obviously waiting for the answer to a question. Jeanne went pink with embarrassment.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Do you go into the forest much?" he repeatedly good-naturedly.

"Oh, I suppose so. I've never strayed very far from the Court, but I go quite often." This answer seemed to give him some satisfaction, and he turned back to the armor with a soft smile.

"Not too many Court people do that."

"Not all 'Court people' are like Sir Young, you know," she laughed, privately agreeing with him. The tall man snorted.

"No, I guess not. Isn't Gillitie just lovely, though? Here a week, and I miss it already."

"You make it sound like it's miles and miles away!"

"Ha, you're right. When you go into the forest proper, though, far away from the Court, it's very different." Jeanne stopped fiddling with a loose thread on her hem to look at him, surprised.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. You never see any glass-eyed men out here, or Anwyn. Fairies, maybe, but fairies aren't picky about where they live." He frowned, something occurring to him. "Have you never met any, then?" Jeanne looked sheepishly at her feet.

"Not really..." Shocked, he turned to look at her, and she stammered, "Well, I know fairies! Some live in a tree outside my window- not a friendly people, are they? And I've _seen _glass-eyed men! They just don't like me, always hide when I come by." He nodded, placated.

"Ah, that's true. Coyote's people don't like strangers, and they stay pretty deep in the forest. The Anwyn are wonderful folks, though, some of my best friends as a boy were elves. We'll should go out into Gillitie one day so you can meet my mate Vesa!" He cleared his throat, turning back to his work, ferociously scolding himself for acting so familiar. _I really just said 'we?' You stupid country wight!_"If, ah, if you want to do that one day that you're not busy." She grinned, apparently unoffended.

"I'd be happy to. I suppose it's high time that I met my neighbors!"

"Brilliant!" George shouted, pleasantly surprised.

"Er..." She ran through her busy schedule in her head. "Could you take me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" It was sooner than he had expected, but that was fine with him.

"I'll be done with drills the same time as today." She paused, hand frozen as it brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You don't mind? I know we've only just met and I've been talking non-stop and generally being very rude-"

"No! No, it's fine, I mean, I've been doing the same thing. I've been far worse, really." He smiled sheepishly, as did Jeanne.

"It's just... nice to see a friendly face at the Court."

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing."

"It's not a very welcoming place, is it?" For a moment, her cheerful expression faltered and showed a surprising sadness. Torn between honesty and courtesy, George merely shrugged.

"It's not so bad. I've met some nice folk here."

"Mmm, I guess" Her good spirits seemed to return, and she hopped off the counter, turning to her new friend. "It was nice meeting you."

"The same."

They shook hands, each surprised by the calluses of the other.

"Tomorrow, then," she breathed, suddenly shy.

"Right. Great. Tomorrow." As she strode back into the corridor, military composure solid as she could manage, George leaned heavily on the edge of the counter. With more happy confusion than alarm, they both wondered:

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	6. Gunnerkrigg Comics Club

I'm sorry it's taken so long to update... My computer is broken and I'm using my dad's laptop now, so things are probably gonna be slower than usual... I'll do what I can! Here's some weird AU stuff for now... I hope you like it! Tell me your opinion in a review- and feel free to include any requests or criticism!

* * *

><p>Annie stood on her tiptoes to write "Comics Club" at the top of the chalkboard, Kat watching from her perch on an empty desk.<p>

"You think anyone's going to show?" the dark-haired girl asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

"Of course I do," Annie replied with a rare smile. "It's not like you to be so pessimistic." Kat laughed at this.

"No, I guess not."

"I mean, we did put those posters everywhere. And Miss Jones probably wouldn't have let us keep our stuff in here if she thought we would fail." Kat walked to the window to stare at the rainy city, a depressing vista if there ever was one.

"I don't see why you two get on so well. She's so weird," Kat replied with a frown. Annie joined her side, studying the gloomy sky.

"She's a good tutor! Deep down, she's really nice. I think." Kat shrugged, and returned to her seat, pulling a crumpled notice out of her bookbag to doodle on the back of it. In the hallway, girls were yelling, and the two members of the Comics Club exchanged glances as the noise moved closer to Jones' classroom.

"Look, just because I wrote some stupid crap doesn't mean I wanna be in this club-"

"You are gonna give this a chance, _serduszko!_"

"I don't _wanna_ give it a chance!"

"It will be good for you!"

The door swung open with a rusty squeal and two girls stumbled in. _Zimmy and Gamma from Chester_, Kat realized, groaning inwardly. _One crazy delinquent and one who barely speaks English._ She managed to smile, and Annie waved hello with genuine warmth.

"Welcome to the Comics Club! It's Gamma and Zelda, right?"

"Zimmy," the unkempt girl growled. She crossed the room to examine Kat's drawing, ignoring the artist's sudden tenseness. "That looks good. Kind of like Carver."

"Oh. Thanks," Kat warily replied. Gamma smiled encouragingly as she patted Zimmy's arm.

"It will be fun," she said in a heavily accented voice. After a whispered exchange in Polish, awkwardly ignored by Annie and Kat in an attempt to be polite, Gamma beamed at Annie. "We will join the club!"

"Great!" Annie took out a notebook and jotted down their full names. "You like comics, then?" Zimmy rolled her eyes, smudged with too much eyeliner.

"Not really. Gamma thought it'd be cool, though, 'cause she likes comics, and she thought I could try turning some of my stuff into cartoons-"

"Your stuff?" Kat asked, looking up from her drawing. Zimmy scowled at her worn trainers.

"Sometimes I write stuff. Like, stories. 'S how I got into this school. Gamma thinks they're good, but they ain't and they're _supposed to be_ a secret." Zimmy's friend gave the girls a look as if to say, _I'm sorry she's so stupid_, and Kat laughed.

"We won't look at your writing if you don't want us to," Annie said gently.

The door swung open to reveal an enthusiastic boy in a football jersey.

"Hi, is this the Robotics Club?"

Kat jumped to her feet.

"We have a Robotics Club? How have I never heard about this?"

"I thought you were the one who did the announcement," he said, sounding confused.

"_Comics_," Kat enunciated. "Not_ robotics._"

"Oh." He laughed, embarrassed, and cast his eyes around the classroom. "Still sounds interesting." Annie materialized at his side with her notebook.

"Would you be interested in signing up?"

"Sure. Name's Jack Hyland, Hyland with a 'Y.'" Zimmy looked up from the stack of Kat's comic books she was browsing.

"Hey, Jack."

"Oh, hey, Zimmy, Gamma. How's it going?"

"Alright. You?"

"Fine."

He picked out an old Batman and settled down with it at one of the desks as the door opened again. A girl with hair dyed a dark red entered, adjusting her glasses. Annie recognized her from art class as Margo.

"Hi, guys. Am I in the right place for the Comics Club?" Kat grinned.

"Yep! Just sign up with Annie." Annie dutifully added her name. Finally, they had a respectable list of members:

Anna Carver  
>Katerina Donlan<br>Zelda Sullivan  
>Gamma Czarnecki<br>Jack Hyland  
>Margo Delacroix<p>

She looked at the motley cast of characters and decided they were more respectable in name than appearance. Kat was an awkward comics nerd with a passion for robotics (not that Annie would want her another way), an outcast in their miserable school. Zimmy was the textbook model of a "troubled youth" with the missed school days and subsequent mysterious injuries to prove it. Gamma was a soft-spoken Polish girl who had formed an unhealthy attachment to Zimmy, her childhood friend, as the only person she could understand. Jack, from what she had seen of him, was more social, but definitely odd, rumored to be some kind of computer genius. Margo was the most normal of the group as the only member to have more than one or two friends, a talented artist and singer.

Annie was no exception to the general oddness of the club, of course. She had spent most of her life at Good Hope Hospital as her father tried in vain to cure her mother's illness. It was certainly not normal to be raised in a hospital with dying patients as her best friends, nor was it normal to be educated by her eccentric mother, who had instilled a love of the supernatural into Annie. Now that she had passed and her father had vanished, the Donlan's were her only family. Anna Carver was certainly not your average girl, and yet, she was not much stranger than Zimmy, Gamma, and Kat.

Zimmy, now leafing through a manga, looked up at Annie.

"Hey, Carver, this is _your_ stupid club. Why don't _you_ do something? What are we supposed to do in this club, anyway?" Annie frowned at the insult and joined the rest of the group.

"Read, write and draw comics," she answered with half-hearted enthusiasm.

"Making a comic sounds fun," Margo said. Zimmy shrugged.

"Better than reading this junk."

"Hey, 'this junk' is my personal collection-"

"Geez, Donlan, no need to take it so seriously."

"Seems kind of cool," Jack chimed in. Gamma nodded. Annie, ever-organized, moved to the blackboard, a kind of excitement taking hold of her.

"So, we all want to write a comic book?" She took the shrugs and nods from everyone to mean yes, and neatly wrote "Ideas" on the board under the name of the club. "What should it be about?" After a blank silence, Kat raised her hand.

"A school?" Zimmy groaned, and even the more polite members of the club rolled their eyes at suggestion. Kat glared darkly at Zimmy. "No, a really cool school, like Professor Xavier's." Annie had no idea what this meant, but it seemed to mollify the others. She wrote it down, and Jack put his hand up.

"Can the school have robots?" Kat nodded emphatically at the suggestion, and it was added to the list.

"A magic forest," Gamma softly suggested, soft brown eyes distant, "Like a fairy tale."

"How would we have a forest in a story about a school?" Kat asked cynically. Jack grinned.

"What if the forest and school are right next to each other? Like the Forbidden Forest?" This reference did not escape Annie, and she nodded approvingly. To the rapidly growing list, she added "magic forest."

"Good idea, Jack. I think there should be some folklore in the story- well, we can work that out later. What about characters?"  
>Margo excitedly raised her hand.<p>

"The students, plus some robots and magical beings. And we can base them on the people in this club."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "Is everyone comfortable with that?"

"Yeah. Good idea Margo!"

"Sounds okay to me, Annie."

"I think is a good idea!"

"If Gamma likes it, fine."

"Okay, then."

For the first time, Zimmy raised her hand.

"I think it should be about Carver and Donlan. 'Cause they put this together and all." The other members quietly agreed, and the flattered founders thanked them. "And I think everyone oughta write their own characters." The two thought for a moment, Annie the first to shyly speak.

"I'd like my character to still be Annie Carver, but Annie would be short for Antimony. It's a kind of metal, and I think it makes a pretty name. She's got fire magic in her family, but she doesn't know it. And, um, she comes to the school after her mom dies, because of a side effect of the fire magic. Her dad-" she pauses, biting her lip. "Her dad is- um- she doesn't know where her dad is. No one does. But he comes back later." Kat got up to put her arm around her friend in the stunned silence that prevailed. As usual, Zimmy was the only one blunt enough to say what everyone was thinking.

"Shit, Carver, that got real personal."

Annie gently shrugged Kat off, cleared her throat, and raised herself to her full height.

"You were the one who said we had to write our own characters. I can write Antimony however I want."

"True," the girl replied from her seat near the back with Gamma. "Let's hear Donlan now." Kat, still standing at the front of the room, laughed nervously.

"I feel like I'm doing a presentation! I want to keep most things the same- my parents can be teachers at the school in the comic, too, and my character'll have the same name and all that. And she's part robot- no, never mind, that's stupid. Okay, she's just really good with robots, and she builds them and all." Jack laughed.

"You stole mine! Can I just do the same thing as Kat? Like, basically the same as I always am, but with robots?" The girl shrugged.

"Sure."

Margo awkwardly stood.

"I'd like to be a minor character. Their friend who likes to sing or something."

"Are you sure?" Annie asked, smiling kindly.

"Yeah, I'd rather focus on the art for this thing." She sat, smoothing her skirt beneath her, and turned to look at Zimmy and Gamma. The unkempt teenager rolled her eyes.

"I guess I gotta do this, huh? Okay. I'm taking a page from Carver's book and making Zimmy short for Zeta instead. Get it? Gamma/Zeta?" Annie nodded, surprised by the thoughtfulness of this. Zimmy continued. "She has all kinds of crazy magic- she can tell what people are thinking, stuff like that- but she can't control it. So she's super-powerful, but it's a curse. Because of all this, she's real scary and mean and screwed up, but she's still a good guy. Her eyes are all black, too, like someone tried to scribble them out." This detail sent an involuntary shiver down everyone's spines, and she grinned toothily, pleased with the reaction. Margo, established as their artist, looked confused.

"So, what, her eyeballs are all black? Or she has no eyes?" Zimmy sighed and sketched a lopsided face in the margin of Margo's sketchbook, briefly explaining her character to Gamma as she did so.

"Like that. Don't think so much about it. It's a metaphor."

"What about Gamma?" Annie quietly asked. Gamma smiled, a touch of sadness in her expression as she patted Zimmy's shoulder.

"I will be Zimmy's good friend." She continued in Polish, Zimmy listening intently.

"She says she helps me control my powers, so we always stick together." Gamma added something with a mischievous grin, and her friend laughed uproariously, shaking her head. When an explanation did not seem to be forthcoming, Annie shrugged and surveyed the list of ideas.

"Now all we need is a title."

"_Robot School."_

_"Laser Annie."_

"No one even mentioned lasers-"

_"Magic Kids."_

_"The Adventures of Fire Girl."_

_"Cyberpunk Hogwarts."_

_"The Evil Secret of _whatever we're gonna call the school."

_"Gunnerkrigg Dwór."_

_"Gunnerkrigg Court_," Zimmy translated, "Like our real school, but if it were old and mysterious."

"It beats _Gunnerkrigg Secondary Boarding School_," Jack quipped.

"It sounds cool," Margo said with a nod.

"I like it," Kat offered.

"Me too," Annie finally said, picking up the chalk. She added it to the now-full board. With a grin, she began copying the information into her notebook.

Gunnerkrigg Court.

It had a ring to it.


	7. The Feigned Soul of Antimony

Well, when I said I would write Annie's POV, I hadn't had any idea how odd it would be! Oh well, gotta roll with the punches. It was write this or start flipping tables in frustration/anticipation for new pages. Text is from Basil Valentine's "Triumphal Chariot of Antimony," an alchemical book. This was written throughout "Divine," with more added as updates were made. Hopefully it's not fragmented! I wasn't going to post this so soon, but what the hey! Thing about that is that it means the next chapter might be late. (Some people were not meant for the high-stakes world of writing cheesy gay fan fiction.)

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><p>Many Artists intending to Anatomize Antimony, have divers ways vexed, wrested and tormented the same, in such wise as it cannot be well described in Words, much less believed; yet, the matter being truely examined, they effected nothing. For they sought not its true Soul, and therefore could not find the feigned Soul of it, which themselves sought.<p>

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><p>Antimony floats, nothingness in all directions, darkness lying lightly as silk across her eyes. Somehow she is not startled by the sudden touch of a hand on hers and the feel of sheets on her bare legs. She slowly sits up, and feels grassy earth replace the mattress. She remains observant, but not curious, and her eyes stay closed. One does not question logic in a dream.<p>

The rustle of leaves in the cool breeze tells her she is in the forest, and before she has time to marvel at this, calloused hands are fluttering to her wrist. By the bracelets she recognizes Kamlen, who grins as his cheek brushes hers. She turns away with a laugh, smiling demurely as he clasps her hand, which is now bearing the simple wristband of the Anwyn. He suddenly releases her as a woman's hands pull her away by the fabric of her sleeves, handing her something and slipping away before the befuddled girl can grab one of her smooth arms. Kamlen is gone, and now it is just her, the tree, and the object in her hand. Even her bracelet is gone. Without even examining the object, she knows it is a mask. Automatically, she holds the smooth ceramic of it over her face, and sighs, heart heavy.

Her eyes spill over with tears, but she smiles because now there's warm sunlight on the back of her head and the sweet taste of cherries on her tongue. She lays aside the cold mask and lets her hair fall into her face, leaning into Kat's familiar, comforting arms. Of its own will, her hand slips under the mask to find a pencil and stack of papers.

_Sorry, Kat,_ she thinks semi-lucidly, but she doesn't really feel guilty, only weary, and her smile doesn't slip. The mask suddenly lifts, exposing her hand to the hot sunlight. She scowls.

_Give it back!_

She lunges for it, limbs still tingling from the cherries, and it is whisked away. Someone is laughing, laughing at her.

_Give it back!_

Antimony knows she is whinging, but doesn't care. She stands unsteadily, spreading her feet apart in a fighting stance, angry and blind. Women's hands grab her wrist. With the other arm, she weakly tries to free herself. Finally, the stranger releases her, and she desperately presses the mask to her face as she collapses to the ground.

_Why can't everyone just leave me alone?_

The woman withdraws, and Antimony is left lying alone in the grass, mind blank with fear. No longer is she contentedly sailing through a dream, but caught in a lonely nightmare.

There is no breeze to dull the sun's heat, and the warmth of it calms her. Her breathing slows, and she cautiously puts aside the mask, ready to seize it again if she needs it. She lets herself relax, suddenly exhausted, and a hand shakily brushes the hair out of her face.

_Mum?_

No, her mother is dead.

_Dad?_

No, her father is gone.

_Kat?_

_Kat will always be there for me,_ she drowsily thinks. She hears muffled voices, quiet and familiar, keeping her awake. She tries to identify them.

_Jack... and... Zimmy?_ The voices are clearer now, and even with her eyes shut, Antimony can tell exactly what's going on: Jack is speaking with Zimmy. No, _flirting_ with Zimmy! His voice is disgustingly soft with love. No, not love, merely- blood boiling, she struggles for words- _a misguided obsession!_ She grabs her mask, swift ferocity in every motion, and stumbles to her now-shoed feet across the balcony. Satisfyingly, she manages to grab and yank Zimmy's coarse hair. Disgusting. How could Jack fall for such a girl? Doesn't he know-

"She's a deranged psychopath!"

Her voice is hoarse with anger. Zimmy's head turns, but she is helpless in Jack's grip. Annie revels in it, that he is working with her, now, that he has turned on her, that he has seen the errors of his ways.

"A deranged-" Zimmy spits, a quiver of fear in her voice, "Oh, yeah? Well... Your dad's a jerk!" Antimony recoils as her mask shatters into smooth, sharp fragments with a quiet crack.

_How dare she how dare she she doesn't know my father she doesn't know me she doesn't know anything she's only some horrible lunatic she doesn't know my father he has his reasons I'm sure I swear it's really the truth!_

She grits her teeth, grabs Zimmy like she once did to Winsbury, and lifts her by her wrinkled shirt. The burn in her arms and the scratches on her legs are welcome, and she easily tosses Zimmy away. As she collapses to the ground, breathing heavily, she smiles in satisfaction, and falls back into the darkness of sleep.

The next thing she knows, she's in a hospital bed with no idea of how she got there. Her mind is wide awake, but her body is tired, so she stays in bed as her eyes dart alertly around the room. Hospitals don't bother her, in fact, they do the opposite, and all she is wondering about now is how she got there.

Kat is asleep at her side, and Annie wonders how long she has been there, if she fell asleep worrying over her. Afraid to wake her up, she gently ruffles Kat's hair, fluffy and messy with sleep, and Kat's eyes blink open.

She stares for a moment, and finally, Annie smiles.

"Hi!" she says, brightly.

"You're awake!"

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><p>And that's all! Sorry it's so short.<p>

By the way, I'm so glad people have been enjoying this story! I think I've thanked all the reviewers in PM's, and if I haven't, it's 'cuz I forgot. I don't know if the comic is just so obscure that there's a small audience, but I don't get too many reviews. I know it's also because many of them go through PM's. I'm always open to comments and criticism, so don't be shy!

(I hope I don't sound petulant. If I ever become one of those authors constantly bargaining, shaming, and/or whining to her readers over reviews, SLAP ME IN THE FACE RIGHT THROUGH THE SCREEN.)


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